To Be Determined
by SmarTPantz 2
Summary: What makes a Justicar become a Justicar? When does a criminal become a criminal? Two of the most powerful asari's were as formidable in love as they were as enemies. This is the story of Aria and Samara. It developed as a surprise to me while writing Lost and Found. I invite you to read that story for background development.
1. Gods decided when mortals live or die

The first thing most people noticed about him was his size. On this particular occasion the most notable thing about him was his inability to sit still. The imposing Turian fidgeted outside the non-descript door after what seemed to be days of security checks and worthless psychological gamesmanship. He moved his hand to hide a whisper of a smile as he thought back upon the past few days. His twin brother's strategy was to feign ignorance and defer to older egos in the rooms. But he was not his brother.

As babies even their mother could not tell them apart; but as they grew taller, so their disparities grew wider. Sidonis, the eldest by 4 minutes, was quiet, introspective, and methodically patient, masterfully creating a false sense of safety for his victims. He never spoke more words than necessary and kept his appearance immaculate in order to "blend easily": no tattoos, no markings, no piercings, no relationships. The Spirits only knew if he had ever been with a woman. It worked well for Sidonis, Sicarious supposed. But not for him. He wanted everyone to know he was coming. The younger brother's impatience, brazenness, and impulsivity were only surpassed by his markings all over his body. 'After all', he thought, 'my reputation has been earned many times over'. Indeed their personalities could not be further apart.

Separately they were impressively skilled, but together they were unmatched assassins, if not the best in the Turian empire. For the most part, their government agreed, at least until they were no longer useful. Like any effective secret agent, they were courted by paid handsomely for their work. Until their costs outweighed their value and they were sold out to the Salarian government in exchange for a worthless mining colony in the outer rim. After that point they lived like pirates and were wanted in most regions of the universe for an assortment of crimes, most notably for trumped up crimes against their home government. Sidonis warned his brother that his exploits were too noticeable for the cunning STG not to find them. "Ridiculous," the youngest twin responded with a drunken wave of his talon. Two days later they were captured and thrown in to a cell to be forgotten.

Four years later, in their dark and damp cell, a small slip of paper slid underneath the door. It offered their release and subsequent job opening in exchange for the murder of the Salarian running the prison. The youngest believed that his constant elucidations proved fruitful, that news of their exploits finally germinated into another job offer. The eldest made no speculation whatsoever.

Whatever their differences, Sicarious believed they balanced each other perfectly, which kept them both alive in the Salarian prison. The Warden had impressive bodyguards, and was no novice in hand-to-hand combat, but years of confinement with other universal scum nursed a deep, cold, and a-typical patient hatred for anyone the younger twin deemed an enemy. Captivity seemed to encourage patience in the youngest brother, and he willingly followed Sidonis' careful plan without complaint. They set up a meticulous chain of events between the various prison gangs, and after Sicarious did what he did best, running his mouth, the prison exploded into a massive riot. In the chaos, the Warden found himself face to face with Sidonis, the last face he would ever see. Afterward, they avoided suspicion from their peers and guards, by joining in the riot, keeping careful to remain in the periphery. The hope of freedom was enough to restrain even the youngest twin.

Three weeks later they were riding in a private transport, replete with an array of many goods and services young ex-convicts would relish. While Sicarious wasted no time gorging himself on the drugs, alcohol and sexual servants, Sidonis sipped whiskey and watched from his bunk. The only contribution he offered during the transport was that their hardest job was now before them. "Ridiculous," the younger of the twins responded with a wave of a talon, and returned his attention to the feast in front of him.

With his shoulders back and face expressionless, the oldest brother patiently waited, trying to count both the visible and hidden cameras scrutinizing every minute detail. He knew they were being watched even though no one seemed to be watching, A true professional, he trained himself to memorize details of rooms, of faces, accents, and smells. Professional or not, very few clues had been offered beyond what he already knew: their potential employer was intent on leaving a distinct impression of control.

The brothers heard the lock disengage before the door opened to reveal a merc clad in black from head to toe. "A human?" the youngest scoffed.

The man spat on the turian's shoe and said, "This human has a pistol aimed at the back of your head, and I have an uncontrollable twitch."

Sidonis entered first without speaking, followed by his brother snarling at the human. To describe it as a room was a stretch. This was not a room. It was a massive circular chamber at least 50 yards in diameter. Placed around the rim of the chamber were numerous recessed lights aimed directly into the line of vision of guests, incapacitating their sight immediately and causing them to lower their gaze. Sidonis could not help but notice the illuminated floor. It was truly magnificent. Red swirls blazed across the beige carpeting, "_like human blood flowing freely beneath our feet_", he reasoned. The warning was clear.

"Sicarious and Sidonis Todlich. Welcome. It speaks highly of you that you have made it this far without dying," a shadowy figure spoke across the room.

"_An asari_." The thought of being employed by an asari disgusted and embarrassed Sicarious, a fact he hid poorly in his response, "Thank you for the compliment." He took the opportunity to scan all of the décor the room, stopping at a curious sight. "May I?" He nodded toward a large and clear stasis encasement that entombed a Turian Warlord's armor, and what was rumored to be a mythological weapon of old: The Reaper's Scythe of Xelon.

"You like that one. I'm impressed. Typically Turian's are attracted to weapons that cause big explosions. But I forget to whom I speak, the infamous Assassins of Assago. I admit it has a nice ring to it," the asari's voice was light and melodic.

One by one, Sicarious moved to survey the many weapons of war and death presented in the room. Some were elegant, some were grotesque, varied in size and shape, but all were unmistakably lethal.

"You like trophies," Sicarious mused.

"No, _young_ turian, I like power."

"_Young_?" The insult implying inexperience and "fool" was not lost. Sicarious returned to the Turian armor and ran his hand along the wide scythe blade of a long forgotten Turian warlord. "I see," he glanced at the partially visible asari still seated behind her desk, "shall I call you 'Your Powerful Highness' then?"

No response followed.

After inspecting it for a few moments, he spoke again, "Some might say that such trinkets do a poor job covering up weakness. This reception hall is filled with many trinkets."

Finally she replied came from within the shadows, "True. But symbols speak differently to different people. Sometimes they are enough to communicate that power belongs to the owner. Imaginative people could also deduce that in order to accumulate these knick-knacks, one would have to pry them from their previous owners' bloody corpse."

Sicarious turned and walked over to her desk and accepted an unoffered invitation to sit in one of her very expensive office chairs directly facing her desk. Still at this close range, the asari remained hidden. He decided that her tolerance of him was weakness. "Your Powerful Highness," he waved his arm around the room, "with all your many powerful weapons, why have you summoned us?"

One of the faceless body gaurds appeared from within the shadow and drew his sidearm with impressive stealth, but a slight wave of a now visible blue hand returned the merc to his position.

Sicarious was momentarily caught off guard, but quickly regained his composure. He laughed heartily and then dumped his large, muddy boots across on top of the desk in front of him. Dirt splattered on every item within reach, including the indigo blue hand resting on the desk. The fact that a wealthy asari was behind his prison release instead of the many warlords for whom the twins had worked infuriated Sicarious. He waved his arm around the room and yelled, "All of this pomp, the ornaments, and paid circus clowns… are they meant to scare me? Make me wonder if you can kill me? If you are in fact the one who called us here, then you know who we are and what we can do, even to you, 'Your Powerful Highness'."

Sidonis felt the static in the room electrify. A talent his brother didn't have, or chose to ignore. If he had any thoughts on the matter, he kept them to himself.

"Say what you want about your power, asari, but I know exactly how you got your 'power.'" The Turian clicked his tongue across his beak like lips, "'Just like your weak species, you got what you got from your amazing body and how you use that body on a pole." His talon moved underneath the waistband of his pants and he began to stroke his crotch. "So let's dispense with the pretense and get to the part where you earn my respect." His laughter echoed throughout the room.

Softly, but unmistakably, he finally noticed the crackle of biotics. His contempt for asari had loosened his tongue, perhaps a bit too far. He cursed under his breath as he felt his empty holster. Slowly he slid his right talon up his left arm, prepared to trigger the micro grenades underneath his skin. He paid handsomely for the projectiles to be implanted in order to make a quick escape. He would not be easily taken into captivity again.

During the entire exchange, Sidonis never moved, at least not until the mercs unceremoniously grappled his arms and legs behind him and began dragging him from the room on his face.

"Leave him!" the warning echoed off the chamber walls. In a fraction of a second all attention was on one nervous laughing turian and one peculiarly quiet asari. Then all at once the deafening silence was broken by screams for relief from the pressure of what felt like a transport ship landing on the younger turian's chest. The only thing keeping it from collapsing altogether was his biotics, which he could only now see paled in comparison to that of his captor. Precious oxygen was coming at a painful price. Each breath gave more and more ground to the invisible arm of the asari pushing down on his lungs. Just before he lost consciousness, metal flashed in the corner of his eye. He glanced down to see the inside curve of the turian scythe resting against his throat.

"You admire this weapon. So did its previous owner. So did I. A fact that proved to cause a bit of a disagreement between the two of us. Eventually the disagreement ended when I ripped his jawbone from his face and forced it up into his ridiculously small brain."

Sicarious felt the sting of the scythe enter the side of his neck and finally found the wisdom to stay silent.

"Tsk, tsk. You want so much for me to respect you." The light blue hand collected a small amount of turian blood as she ran it up his neck. "You are right. I do know who you are and what you have accomplished. I also know that your family is disgraced by you, your government has disowned you, and the only one who might miss you, should your body be shot out into space without a head, is your brother. I also know about the small explosive devices in your arms and that they do not work if your head is missing from your body. Yes, Sicarious, trust that I do not make many mistakes, that I know everything about everyone I encounter, and trust most of all that I do not give a damn about what you think you know or about giving you the least amount of respect!" The asari's anger roiled, igniting her cerulean eyes.

She now stood directly face to face with the trembling younger twin, and noticed an outlandish tattoo inscribed on his forehead. " 'A god determines when a mortals' life will end'. I like it. I think I will keep it. I know just the place for it."

'I have never seen him look afraid,' Sidonis thought as his brother's head stopped spinning in front of his face, the body lay limp at the asari's feet. 'He spent his whole life trying to convince everyone he was not afraid. But the asari and Death were not fooled.'

"Get him up," she hissed.

The mercs picked the turian back up with the same amount of care in which they rammed him into the floor.

"Will you grieve your brother?" she whispered.

Sidonis shifted his weight onto the uninjured leg and raised his gaze. "He talked too much."

"Ah yes, the quiet brother. I cannot decide if your demeanor pleases me or bores me. Your brother was an idiot. Do you share his same opinions?" The scythe turned toward him, still hanging.

"No," came his quiet response.

"Just in case you do…" Once again the scythe moved. This time sliding across Sidonis' face, opening a five-inch gash across his forehead. It turned and easily pierced his right thigh. "…You need to know I do not accept disrespect. You also need to know that as soon as I found you in that poor excuse of a prison, you belonged to me. I determine what you do and when you will die. If you decide to work for me, you life will lengthen. Should you deny me anything, think of betraying me, I will gut you. And I think your newly required limp will remind you of that from now on. Do you accept this agreement?"

The scythe returned to its placement and the asari returned to her desk. After a moment she sighed, "I have decided your silence bores me. Speak!"

"Yes." He said and then decided to speak without invitation, "What do I call you?"

"I have a job for you. If you complete this job to my satisfaction, I will pay you handsomely and your life will continue. And then, and only then, you can call me Aria."


	2. Beyond all doubt

Aria sat in a final debriefing at unit command struggling to maintain composure. As the hours droned on, she calmed her thoughts with the anticipation of the first kiss with her lover as soon as she opened the door to their home. She also imagined 2 of their 3 daughters beaming at the sight of her. She would miss the eldest, but she had already begun her mandatory military service at the capital. Maybe they would all call her and vid chat once she was settled in?

Her deployment had been over a year, during which there was zero contact with her family. Although her entire unit was stationed on the remote planet, she spent most of her time alone since she was far and away the best sniper in the group. She quickly learned that the large insects were just as deadly as the rogue asaris wanted for selling military secrets to the highest bidder.

'Goddess how officers like to hear themselves speak,' Aria thought to herself. How many more times did she and her comrades need to hear the same information repeated? Aria swore then and there that if she ever became an officer, she would be short and too the point. Anyone stupid enough to need repeated instructions deserved to die anyway.

Her thoughts trailed back to her family. Most maidens her age sought out adventures throughout the galaxy. She surprised herself at the desire to stay at home, to become more domestic. Never as a young asari did she imagine being in love with her children, or with a matron that came from a higher status than she, much less with the famed professor of advanced commando biotics and guerilla warfare. Aria's body began to ache with anticipation as she remembered the first time she and Samara had sex. Her young body could barely keep up with the more experienced and more aggressive partner. Samara held nothing back. She explained, less than patiently, that if Aria was to be with her again, she better be agile and open minded enough to do so.

Aria should not have been surprised that news of her encounters with Samara reached her mother. The matron's prowess and conquests, both in combat skills and with lovers, was of legend and made for juicy gossip among her peers. When her mother contacted her after learning of their relationship, she did not hide her disfavor and strongly warned that the older woman only wanted her for the moment. Furthermore she was convinced that since Samara's family was one of the wealthiest and politically longstanding in their species history, she would be used and tossed aside as most lower cast members usually are. Fortunately for Aria, she was naïve and hopelessly in love with Samara almost from the first time they met. A fact that helped ignore both her mother's warnings, and any minor concerns she may have once had.

She laughed to herself as she remembered when Samara asked Aria to travel with her to Omega. At that time, the thought of visiting the galaxy's underbelly made her sick. Any reservations she may have had vanished when Samara vowed to always keep her safe. In fact she never had one doubt about her safety since then. She loved Samara and trusted her from the center of her being.

She was not sure who was more surprised at Samara's eventual confession of love. It was more than Aria imagined, and something that Samara admittedly never before imagined. The memory that daily sustained her above all else, that kept her heart beating, especially on long deployments on god-forsaken planets, was the moment Samara stopped fucking her and began to make love to her. She remembered that night with great clarity: Aria underneath Samara, her clothes cut from her body by her own blade, begging the matron to put aside her thirst for other flesh and love only her. The vulnerability in her lover's eyes made Aria weep. The culminating and explosive orgasm resulting from the intimate moment said more between the two of them than any combination of words that could possibly be uttered.

She dreaded telling her mother she and Samara had chosen to become bonded, and for good reason. Her only response was that asari from THAT family could not bear to have untouchable enter their very protected circle. She quickly reminded Aria that many criminals peppered the annals of their history. Most recently that of her "uncle", a batarian slave trader who specialized in child abductions.

"Have you considered, daughter, that it will only take one person to uncover this unsavory secret. Once this happens, your ridiculous dream of happily ever after will surely end. Powerful people", her mother said, "do not welcome threats to their power. No matter how raucous their fuck-fests may be, or how bright and pliable the pretty young thing may be."

"Mother you are wise about many things, but with regard to Samara, I completely disagree." Aria surprised herself at her candor. "Indeed Samara is wealthy, famous, deadly, and had every luxury desire at her command, but I am convinced she is her own woman and does not subject herself to anyone's expectations. Not even those of her family."

Nevertheless her mother's words found fertile ground and fear began to grow in Aria's heart. What if her family's history did pose a threat to her dreams? Should she ask? What if she asked and Samara became angry that she didn't tell her previously? Or Worse. What if Aria's past shamed her?

Three weeks before the ceremony, the two sat alone in their expansive dining room. Samara finished pouring their wine and sat next to her young betrothed. The food before them was as beautiful as it was fragrant. Delectable fruits and cheeses from across Thessia adorned the serving plates; yet Aria could not find her appetite. Her eyes could not lift themselves from the floor, where fear had been hiding her heart for the past few days. The words of her mother echoed loudly in the chambers of her mind, until she thought she would go mad.

Samara pushed her shoulders into the chair and asked, "Aria, it is not my custom to pry into your thoughts, but it concerns me that your heart has been so heavy as of late."

Aria stole a glance at her beloved and inexplicably found the courage to share the most recent conversation between she and her mother. She hung her head and began to tremble. She tried her best to stutter out an explanation about the more murky limbs of her family tree family, in particular the rot brought on by the poor choices made by her mother's sister. Not only did she bond with the batarian crime lord, but also she chose to stay with him even when he abused her and their children. No one was safe from his greed or his foul temper.

Samara gently reached with one hand and touched the trembling hands that were clasped beside her. With the other hand she mercifully stopped Aria's struggle by lifting her chin. "I know everything there is about you, Aria. I also know about the batarian. He has nothing to do with you."

Curiosity got the better of her and she had to ask, "How did you know about him?"

Samara's blue eyes fixed upon hers and she calmly replied, "Aria, my love, trust that I do not make many mistakes, that I know everything about everyone I encounter. How much more about someone I love? A fact that he apparently did not consider." She sipped her wine while contemplating just how much she should share with Aria.

Aria both flinched and gasped. The thought of her family's shame embarrassed her more than she anticipated. "Samara you must believe that I had no idea…"

"I know, my love. Nebulo Scelus introduced himself while I was waiting to meet you for lunch at Nexus several months ago. He poorly attempted to threaten both you and me." Samara laughed and continued, "I congratulated him and said that he was now at the bottom of a very long list. Many people twice his worth had tried and failed to intimidate me. If he had any intelligence, he would have left at that point, but instead he wanted to convince me about his powerful connections, and unless I wanted him to soil the family name, I should began paying him lump sums of creds whenever he demanded."

The specific detail that shocked Aria the most was the fact that anyone was brave, or stupid, enough to ever threaten Samara to her face. She then wondered how the restaurant was able to scrape him off the ceiling. "What did you do to him?" Aria was mystified.

"Very little energy was required. He followed me to a side street where I pinned him against the nearest wall, pulled out his right arm and beat him in the face with it until he couldn't open his eyes, all of which with biotics alone. I explained to him that it was only out of respect for your mother's sister that I did not end his life, and if I ever believed that he posed a threat to you, I would kill anything that he ever loved, and sell him to the highest bidder. Interestingly enough, I would probably gain very little because he was now a worthless batarian with only one working arm."

Aria howled with laughter, "I can't believe you didn't kill him!"

"I am certain that whoever sent him received the message I intended to send: you are mine, and I will always jealously protect you… from anyone." Samara's faint smile poorly mirrored the beaming smile across Aria's face. And with that hint of a smile, Aria's doubt and fear died. She returned to her wine signaling the discussion was at an end.

Their bonding ceremony was more than most young asari maidens could imagine, much less afford. Ironically much of it was free because many asari wanted to be Aria's new friend, or moreover, did not want to be her soon to be wife's enemy. The entire 5 floors of the exclusive Azure hotel was reserved, gratis, by the owner, a long time friend of Samara's family. Most of the creds that were spent by Samara were lavished on their attire. As true with most asari, neither woman was ashamed of their bodies or sexuality. From a very young age, regardless of social class, asari assure their daughters that their bodies are symbols of love from the Goddess. So it was not unusual for the two women to have little fabric on their form, but what silk and jewels did adorn their bodies rivaled the even ancient queens of old. Aria's choice was an Illisium silk dress with one small strap around her neck. The loop reconnected at the crest of chest. Light danced in and out of the transparent material as it snugly fit the curves of her breasts and thighs. A single line of white moon crystals rested upon dress beginning at her neck and seemingly floated down her body to fasten around her waist. Two flawless gold bracelets on each of her wrists matched perfectly with that of her soon to be spouse. Samara wore a brief close fitting cover blouse that covered only the tip of her breasts, exposing her taught midriff. It was accompanied by a silk, floor length skirt that was slit up to her hips on each side, revealing her muscular and lithe, long legs with each step. A polished jade symbol of her family, a djet, hung on a gold chain and sat nestled between her sensuous breasts. Both women wore gold sandals that ribbed around their feet and ankles up to mid calf. At the altar, they faced a priestess who stood between them and the impressive guest list that had gathered for the occasion. Samara stood as straight as a spire, studying the crowd before them. Aria imagined no one more formidable or sturdy, except perhaps the goddess herself. No foe, lover, or challenge had ever defeated her. Aria knew Samara would be her strength every day for the rest of their lives together. Only once did Samara break her pose to meet the gaze of her young love and it instantly sent silent thunder throughout Aria's body when their eyes met. She leaned in kissed Aria's neck and whispered that now all doubt and gossip would be silenced because everyone could now she see why she had chosen Aria above all others.

After the ceremony and celebration with guests, the two women left Thessia to travel. Some destinations were romantic, some were dangerous, but all of them were together. At the end of one year they returned. Aria chose to continue in the Asari military, specifically in espionage branch of the Asari government. She would never be sure if it was her own skill, or Samara's renown, that produced the accolades and promotions. It did not, however, provide comfortable assignments. Each assignment in some way exposed the corruptness of governments, so much more than she would ever possibly forget. Many times over she thought that the wrong woman chose this profession. Samara was more capable of dealing with the unscrupulousness and ruthlessness of individuals. It was a trait Aria admired and wished one day to master. The times she could be home with her wife and daughters proved to be invaluable in keeping her sane and grounded.

Indeed Samara had no desire to continue in the military or government. Rather she chose to take an executive job at her family's company. When they decided to have children, she left the company and once again began teaching physical training at the academy. Not because she needed the money, but because she saw the value of contributing to the future of their people, especially since she now had a personal investment by way of her children. Her fortune allowed their daughters to receive the highest and most prestigious education and biotic training that money could buy. But fortune did not equal entitlement in the home of Samara. Their daughters were expected to follow her directions with respect and immediate cooperation. Their two oldest daughters did so without question, but their youngest, Mirala… well she was… not so cooperative. Her stubbornness was beyond frustrating. She would only compromise once she believed it would benefit her in some way. She questioned her mothers' knowledge and discipline almost without exception. Her confidence and intelligence far surpassed her sisters. Her posture and demeanor could not be mistaken for anything other than proof of a birthright of asari royalty. She was, in every single way, Samara's daughter. Because of this, Aria loved Mirala above all else, save Samara. Aria cherished those qualities in her daughter but they set Samara's teeth on edge. Yet, the challenge Mirala posed for Samara actually softened her as a mother. She became more patient and determined to harness this natural power. She increased her meditations with her children which softened her temper and her heart. To some the change was subtle at best, but to Aria the changes were astonishing. Aria mused that their smallest daughter might one day be the only person to do what no one else could ever do: best the unbreakable Samara.

"Yes," Aria mused, "this homecoming would surpass all others. Of this I have no doubt."


	3. Chapter 3 Guardian Angel

A/N: I hope you read my first story, Lost and Found. If so, you will recognize some of the dialogue. I borrowed a scene from a movie called The Network in 1976. Damn Faye Dunaway was a good looking woman and a damn good actress. Anyway, this time it is from Aria's perspective. Not to insult your intelligence, but I hope you can tell this story is not being written in linear form. Think of it kind of like the show Lost, at least before it got stupid. In this chapter I have also broken up present and past with Italics. I hope you enjoy. ~STP

* * *

"I found her."

Aria had come to appreciate Sidonis' brevity. Especially when it came to this very urgent task. She internally breathed a sigh of relief, which was quickly replaced with frustration. 'Curse the gods who implanted her mother's temper and stubbornness within this child,' she thought to herself. "Does she know that you are looking for her?"

"I don't think so." Aria could barely understand him above the background.

Aria excused herself from a meeting with Eclipse leadership and moved to a far corner to take this call on her private connection. They were seeking permission to reside on Omega momentarily to avoid the anger of a Citadel council member. Unbeknownst to the Eclipse sergeant, an up and coming Turian councilman's pregnant mistress just happened to be on board a ship they boarded and subsequently destroyed. She was on her way to a luxurious colony in the far rim to give birth to their child. Omega seemed like a perfect location to stay out of sight, and perhaps make some money as well. Normally Aria did not care about such trivial issues, but the Eclipse power seemed to be increasing on the Citadel, and she decided that it was far better for them to be indebted to her than the other way around.

Aria stole a glance around the glassed room and saw that no one was looking at her, which precisely meant everyone was indeed looking at her, and decided her office was a better location to take this call. "I pay you to know, not think, Sidonis. Where are you? More importantly, where is she?"

"We are on Sur'Kesh. I caught up with her at a museum where she stayed for six hours, and for the last 6 we have been in dance clubs. Currently she is preoccupied with several salarian suitors."

"Sur'Kesh?" Her scowl returned. The door closed behind her and she sat at her desk. 'Why Sur'Kesh?' Aria wondered. Young asari maidens usually looked for excitement and entertainment and Sur'Kesh was as far from entertaining as she could imagine. But then again this asari was never described as typical. What would salarians have that she might want? Think Aria… Think! "What was the name of the museum where you found her?"

"Galactic Mythological Museum," he replied.

Immediately information began transmitting on her terminal. "You will find a handsome amount of creds in your personal account, Sidonis. Use some of it to buy disguises and friends on that planet. Change your appearance often and use your new friends to track everywhere she goes. Have no contact with her. Oh one more thing, DO NOT LOSE HER!"

Before he could respond, the call ended. He found a quiet corner that seemed to overlook the dance floor, but more importantly, gave him direct line of sight to his target. This assignment was by far different than all others. Typically when the Pirate Queen sent an employee to "find" someone, they are subsequently "lost" without a trace by unspoken order. As was her custom, Aria did not offer much explanation or reason, but she did emphatically instruct him to track this mark with the utmost discretion, and most importantly see that no harm comes to her, either by his hand, or by that of another.

'Who was this girl and why does she want her alive?' It was a question that Sidonis had plenty of time to contemplate during his 18 month galactic scavenger hunt. Although she was very young for an asari, the maiden was very bright and very eager to learn how to stay alive. Indeed her mistakes were coming few and far between. And it was the last mistake that drew him here: leaving her salarian transport captain alive. A mistake that Sidonis kindly corrected for her.

He sipped a Turian whiskey and watched the young girl dance, her long legs moving within the crowd like the ocean current. Her movement, her mannerisms, the strong jawline, the tempest raging behind her eyes, all of it was mysterious, seductive, and beautiful. And though he had never met her, somehow it was familiar. She was familiar. A gnawing dread crept up his neck. Was this be the reason he had not been tasked with a kill order? Had he had been tasked with guarding Aria's daughter?

* * *

Faster and faster her blue eyes scanned the information looking for the answer. Almost by accident an obscure description caught her eye. An entire wing was dedicated to asari history and mythology, specifically the worship of Ardat-Yakshi. As she skimmed the artifacts and articles, her breath suddenly caught in her throat.

"As the asari culture grew in technology and science, increasingly old customs and tradition were replaced, including the views of the Ardat-Yakshi. In 4335 s.c, an asari scientist discovered that long lines of "pure-blood" copulation between asari caused a potential genetic mutation that manifested in the pair's offspring. The nervous system of the effected child overpowered and extracted the life force of the other creatures in which they attempted copulation. Eventually the Asari government classifed the once god-like creatures as a dangerous disease that needed to be purged from their society and history. After millennia of being gods, the proud and powerful Ardat-Yakshi became regulated to nothing more than murderers. Some sympathic Athame priestesses petitioned the government to allow willing Ardat-Yakshi to volunteer exile inside the Temple organization, where they would live a life of quiet solitude and service instead of annihilation. Those that refused would be classified as traitors and were captured and put to death. Initially, the Asari government had very little success in exterminating the once famed demi-gods. Many military personnel died while attempting to apprehend the fugitives. Eventually Justicars were called upon to capture or kill every known Ardat-Yakshi in what became known as "The Purging". The most famous Justicar assigned to oversee this order was the famed Verilu Ritina. TO LEARN MORE ABOUT JUSTICAR VERILU, PLEASE CLICK HERE."

"Samara," Aria closed her eyes at the unexpected heartache. It visited Aria less and less over the years, but when returned, it was just as powerful as it was in the beginning of their end. And with the ache came the tortuous memories.

She remembered their last…everything. The last argument. The last kiss. The last time they made love. And the last time she fought with her.

_"You need me, Samara. You need me badly because I am your last contact with reality. I love you, even now, and that painful decaying love is the only thing between you and the shrieking nothingness you'll live with for the rest of your life. Everything you touch will die with you. But not me. Not as long as I can feel pleasure and pain… and love for my daughters." The room was thick with tension. Neither moved, both waiting for the other to break. Finally Aria spoke both a threat and a promise, "Samara, if you leave… if you do this… I will not be here when you return." It was a false threat, Aria knew. But what little choice did she have? Every attempt failed up to this point. Desperation screamed inside her heart. Samara paused momentarily as the weight of her choice weighed heavily upon her. But then one small step, then another, then another, until Samara was hidden from her vision completely. "Endless grief awaits you, Samara!" Aria cursed. Yet she knew the curse was now hers._

_Slipping. Her existing was slipping, fading into shadow._

_Silence pummeled her as she staggered through their home. No amount of self-control could barricade the oncoming tsunami of rage threatening to overwhelm her consciousness and devour her sanity. Her body was aglow with the heat of her biotics, an eerie contrast to the oppressive darkness around her. All at once her body exploded, unleashing on anything in her vicinity. Photos, awards, furniture, artwork, walls, doors, clothing… the entirety of her life was disintegrating under her feet._

_The physicians told her they were not sure how long she had been unconscious. The medical tests did not reveal any cause or explanation of the substantial amount of brain trauma. The initial assumption was that Aria had undergone psychological torture of some sort while on assignment. The police were investigating a possible crime, but had difficulty extracting any evidence. Over the course of the next few days, Aria slowly began to regain consciousness, and despite her desire to do otherwise, she could not help but remember that she was terribly alone._

_One night, in what seemed to be her darkest hour, Aria finally spoke. She tearfully begged the Goddess to let her body die and join her heart that had already passed away. The response she received was not expected, a warm hand embracing hers. She closed her eyes more tightly, squeezing out tears from the corner of her eyes. "Please," Aria pleaded, "I want to die."_

_"Aria, you must return to us," a familiar voice spoke from the darkness._

_Slowly she opened her eyes. Even though her vision was still blurry from grief and medication, the face in front of her was unmistakable. "I cannot," she swallowed as the tears flowed again, "I cannot do this alone."_

_"Aria…" the voice was calm and her eyes were beautiful._

_"Who am I without you?" Aria asked._

_The morning sun began to peek into the room and danced across the beautiful face in front of her. "You are Aria T'Loak. You are the mother of daughters, and a daughter of the Goddess. And the strongest woman I know. You can do this. You convinced me long ago that you could do anything." Her eyes shone brilliantly. "You are not alone. I will always love you."_

_Instantly her torment quieted and she fell into a deep and healing sleep. The next day the doctor commented on the remarkable improvements and decided she could be discharged. Strangely, no one could recall seeing her wife, or any visitors during her stay._

_"That is simply not possible!" As quickly as they left, the tears and demons of despair returned. The medical staff immediately called for a priestess and quickly moved to support her, fearful that any further agitation could relapse any fragile emotional recovery._

_An old and petite asari dressed in unremarkable temple robes entered and quickly swept everyone out of the room, save the distraught patient. Calmly she approached the maiden. "Aria, my name is Maya." She waited until Aria lifted her eyes and then continued, "I am called to serve those who have been afflicted with injuries both seen and unseen, and I have been asked to visit you. Please consider sharing your burdens with me, child, and let us pray the Goddess gives us understanding."_

_For the next 4 hours, Aria purged her soul until she was emotionally spent and lay in the priestess' lap. The matriarch held Aria's head and caressed her forehead while they both cried softly. Only after a great deal of time passed did Maya finally whisper. "With all their knowledge of science, the doctors were not able to see all this damage was caused by a broken heart."_


End file.
